


The Rarest Rose of Them All

by LieutenantWubs



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Old People In Love, Schizophrenia, Some AU backstory, Suicide (mentioned), eugh, mental disorder (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4800812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantWubs/pseuds/LieutenantWubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(This is part of 'The Good Doctor' series and it takes place after chapter 3.</p>
<p>As Dr. Hill watches the way Josh and Sam interact with each other, he is reminded of a life of love he once lived years ago.</p>
<p>(Dr. Hill's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rarest Rose of Them All

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry you guys probably want a real chapter of 'The Good Doctor' but I couldn't stop myself from writing about Dr. Hill when I was listening to Frank Sinatra
> 
> I hope you enjoy it anyways... maybe?

I watched the interaction between Josh and Sam with wonder. Alone, Josh was such a somber soul, no doubt due to the loss of his sisters. But with Sam, it was as though she gave him life. I could see the light in his eyes when he would return to her in the living room after our appointments, always eager to see what she was up to.

I recall with fondness that I was exactly the same with Rose.

* * *

 

When we first met, I must have been around 8 years old at the time, while she was 6. My mother had dragged me to the house where the new neighbors had moved in, wanting to give them a warm welcome. That was where I first met her.

She had peeked out from her fathers legs when he answered the door, no doubt curious to see who it was. We made eye contact and the first thing I noticed was her bright red hair. Never had I seen such a vibrant color on someones head. I was instantly mesmerized.

_“Oh! And who is that precious darling?”_  My mother had asked, obviously noticing Rose as I had. Her father had looked so proud at that moment, stepping aside to let us fully see Rose.

_“This is Rose. Rose, say hello to the Hills.”_ The hand gesture from her had been nervous, making a smaller me want to make her smile. I never liked it when others were sad or anxious. Acting like a brave little boy, I had confidently stuck out my hand towards her.

_“Hello, Rose, my name is Alan. But my friends call me Al. I like your hair.”_  At the time I must have thought that that was the best way to introduce myself. What a foolish young boy I was. But nevertheless, I had made her smile.

We saw each other daily after that first meeting.

As we got older, so did our relationship. I can remember the days where we would walk home from school together, talking about everything and nothing. I couldn’t have been happier.

But alas, time went on and we grew up, I had to face the reality of the world.

My father disappeared. My mother got depressed, and so did I. I began to fight a battle that I never imagined having. Rose was the one person that I felt like I could go to.

Despite how close we were though, I didn’t know she was also fighting her own battle. A battle she had been fighting since she was small.

It was in November of 1979 when I saw an ambulance arrive at her house. I was only 15, Rose, 13. I remember looking out my window, watching as she was rolled out in a gurney.

The rest is a bit of a blur. But I can recall running out of my house, screaming for her. The medical team had to hold me back as they loaded her into the truck, until my mother could come and grab me as they drove away.

A week later, my mother got a call from Rose’s father.

_“Alan... Rose might not be back for awhile.”_

That was the worst news I had heard in the 15 years of my life, right after hearing that my father had left. I just wanted to see Rose.

_“She needs help, honey. Rose has a serious mental disorder called schizophrenia. They are going to try and help her.”_

I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but afterwards, I went on a mission to find out. When I did finally read about it, memories of our childhood together came rushing back. They finally made sense.

All the times we would play in the yard and she would start talking to thin air, it made sense.

The days where she wouldn’t leave her room to come out and play because she was too scared of what was outside, it made sense.

I cried in the library for hours that day. My mother had to come and get me after the librarian called her.

Finally, after months of not seeing her, I was allowed to visit Rose in the hospital.

Hospitals were not my favorite place to go, as it reminded me of needles. But for Rose, I walked down those white daunting hallways willingly. Not even the disgusting scent of mixed cleaning products could slow me down.

She was held in the psych ward, with all the other ‘insane’ patients. But I ignored the screams and banging on walls. Only focused on getting to her.

The moment I saw her was the same moment my heart truly broke.

Clad in a white t-shirt and pants, curled up on her bed, Rose had looked so depressed and scared.

I hated it.

When she saw me though, I knew it meant a lot to her.

She didn’t let me go from her embrace for 3 minutes

After that day of tears, long stories, and heartfelt confessions, we decided to start dating.

For months my days included running to the hospital after school to see Rose before their visiting hours were over. My mother called me a lovestruck fool for Rose.

But I didn’t care. I got to see her.

Before I knew better, I believed that me being in love with Rose, and showing her that I loved her, would help her recover from her mental illness. I thought I could fix her.

But love doesn’t cure schizophrenia. Or any mental disease for that matter.

I was 17, and she was 15, when I first realized that.

When I went to visit her one day, Rose had ignored me, but I didn’t think much of it. She always zoned out. I went to touch her shoulder, to get her to look at me, but when I made contact with her skin, she had turned and slapped me, screaming at the top of her lungs.

The medical staff had to drag her back to her room so they could calm her down from her ‘episode’.

I ran home and collapsed in my mother’s arms. So confused. So upset. I just wanted to know why she wasn’t better yet, why I couldn’t seem to help her. My mother offered me some comforting words.

_“Al... love is strong, but not that strong. I know you want to help her, but loving her won’t cure her illness. If you really care about Rose, you will accept her for everything she is, because your love may not fix her, but it will be that light that she can always run to. I think that’s what she really needs. Someone who will always be there.”  
_

If I had ran to anyone else after that hospital visit, who knows what could have happened. But my mother always was a caring soul. She believed that everyone needed at least one special person in their life, or else they would live a sad existence.

Only a day later I went back to the hospital to visit Rose.

She didn’t even remember our previous encounter.

Months later, when it was time for my highschool prom, I skipped it. Rose had been let out of the hospital only a few weeks prior, and I spent the whole night with her at the city’s public gardens.

It was better than any movie’s rendition of prom night I had ever seen.

As the years went on, I went to college to major in psychology, and Rose got a job as a gardener. We moved into a small apartment in the city together, and I could never see out the windows from all the different plants that Rose had hanging in front of them. It was home.

We had our good days and bad days as any couple does, but we always got through it together. There would be times when Rose forgot to take her medication, and it would feel like there was a ghost in the house rather than a living soul. And there were times when we would sit at our small round dining table, simply taking comfort in the early morning silence, watching through the gaps in the foliage as the sun rose up over the horizon.

Yes, we had bad days, but we made the good days worth it.

After some time, Rose got acquainted with some rich folk who paid her a lot to work on their garden, and I got a job working as a small time therapist.

It wasn’t long before we got enough money to move out of the cramped apartment and bought an old styled victorian house that was only a few miles from the water, completely separated from the bustling streets of the city. I had never seen Rose more calm than the first night she sat on the front porch of our new home.

I, of course, had to find a new job in this new area, but I didn’t care. Rose was happy.

Eventually, we met people who lived around the water, and soon they got wind that I was a therapist. I got clients and made a room for us to meet in. Those clients passed my name on to relatives and eventually I had a good sized network of people who came to me. Rose was content to stay with her flowers when people came over for appointments. 

But at the end of the day, we always sat together in the backyard, and I would listen to her endless plans on what flowers she would grow where, and how each season the garden would take a new appearance. I never really knew what she was talking about, but hearing her talk so passionately never failed to make me smile.

We were happy.

As the seasons changed and our garden grew, so did we. At the ages of 31 and 29, we finally bought a king sized bed to share together. I never realized that Rose moved so much in her sleep.

At the ages of 33 and 31, Rose’s garden bloomed in full, creating a spectrum of colors in our backyard. I can remember one of the neighbor’s kids coming over to ask if she could look at the garden. Rose was happy to share it with her.

After that, Rose asked me if I wanted kids.

We decided together that we would wait to adopt.

When I turned 38, a friend of mine asked me when I would ask Rose to marry me.

That night I bought a ring. The next day I brought her to an open field for a picnic. We sat in the grass for hours, laughing and watching the clouds float by, until I got up on one knee and asked her to marry me.

She hugged me so hard that we fell backwards onto the grass, but neither of us cared. We had each other.

We had another few good years together, but eventually her mental state deteriorated, and I could tell that she was slipping from my grasp.

First, her medication stopped working. And then days would go by when she wouldn’t even notice me. She stopped eating, because she forgot to. I tried to help her, but like my mother had said, I could only do so much.

As a last minute effort, I took my friends advice to get a therapy dog, and it was the best purchase I ever made. I honestly believe that that little dog gave Rose an extra year on her life.

But that was it.

A year later... I got a call in the middle of the night asking me to come down to the police station to identify a body. I instantly realized that Rose wasn’t next to me.

I can remember feeling numb as I drove to the station.

I can remember the cops holding me back, just as the medical team did all those years ago, as I screamed and cried when they pulled the tarp back to show Rose’s lifeless face, pale and tinted blue from the water that had filled her lungs after she jumped off a bridge.

I can’t remember the first few weeks after that night.

Everything reminded me of her. 

Very slowly though,, I managed to leave the house. I began to see my clients again. It took time, but helping others helped me to move on.

Sam reminds me of myself in that sense. Josh has never told me of a time when she broke down and he was the one to help her, but I feel like Sam finds solace in Josh. By helping him, she is, in some way, helping herself.

* * *

 

I wave goodbye to the two young adults as they get into their car and drive off, smiling to myself.

Yes... They are similar to me and Rose. Taking comfort in one another when their worlds came crashing down, not knowing what to do.

It will take time, but I have a feeling that they will survive, together.

Thinking about it now...

I really do think Rose would have adored them.

**Author's Note:**

> jfqifubqwufbqdyfb well there is my old man headcanon.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is always welcomed and appreciated and so are your comments on what you think of whatever the hell I wrote.


End file.
